Conquest of Earth

by James David Victor

  “I am telling you that the real battle is against the Ru’at. And that we’re all in this together. Hausman and the Near-Earth Fleet just haven’t realized it yet.” Solomon powered down his console and took a step back. “I won’t be ordering any of my ships to attack those CMC ships out there,” he said unequivocally.

  “Neither will I,” Jezzy said, copying the motion.

  Solomon dared the new commander-in-chief to speak against him, but she didn’t. In fact, she cocked her head to one side and gave them both a small smile. “Very good. You know, at first, I wondered at the necessity of creating a new regiment out of criminals, murderers, and thieves, but now I see how lucky I must have been to fall in with the Outcast Marines,” she said, before formally agreeing. “Let them go.”

  The air of tension settled and all eyes on the bridge turned to the viewing screen to see the final CMC fighter craft eventually catch up with the Marine transporter, and for the transporter—not so desperate to get away now that its pursuers were so far behind—to extend one of the loading arms for the CMC fighter to dock awkwardly.

  And then, just a few instants later, the Barr-Hawking ring of the jump-ship was glowing and blurring, creating a corona of light that extended over all three ships. It shimmered and glittered into nothingness, as if it had been a dream.

  “And heaven knows that if it’s heading back for Earth, then it’s going to have the shock of its life,” Solomon murmured as he looked at the wavering stars finally settling back into their hard and bright brilliance.

  “True,” Ochrie sighed, before gesturing toward the viewing screen. “No time to lose, then. Take us to the ECH, and let’s find a way to take down that Ru’at mothership, now!”

  “Sir! Yes, sir!” the crew members and Outcast Marines chorused loudly. Not one of them could agree more with the sentiment, and their new commander’s determination.

  16

  Major Surprise

  “ECH Mainframe? Activate voice controls,” Chief Ochrie breathed into the dark.

  The errant team of Outcast (and ex-Outcast) Marines had docked with the experimental command hub, Ratko synchronizing the scout with the rotating outer disk and docking on one of the portholes with practiced ease.

  The doors had opened with a slight hiss of atmosphere to reveal a dark room with a clear glass airlock at the far end, and cabinets of encounter suits and a biohazard sign etched onto the wall.

  “This place has always operated under maximum security protocols,” Ochrie explained. “There’s all sorts of sensitive and experimental equipment in here, everything from jump drives to new chemical compounds.”

  Solomon shared a look of wary alarm with Jezzy beside him as Ochrie walked up to the clear door and looked through to the other side.

  “Not that I suppose it matters anymore. Door open!” she said, and the glass broke its seal with another hiss of atmosphere, revealing a wide corridor that occupied the middle of the outer disk, and a narrower one heading straight forward, which Solomon assumed went to the heart of the hub. It was down this corridor that Ochrie stalked.

  “Lights,” she said. “Activate full emergency protocols.” At the sound of the acting commander-in-chief’s voice, white lights flickered on around them, advancing along the ceiling and revealing more doors on either side of the corridor.

  Ochrie didn’t pause, but as Solomon and the others hurried past, they caught glimpses through the clear glass of rooms and laboratories and workshops stuffed full of strange equipment. There were banks of screens with wires snaking to orbs that looked like they were made of mercury or aluminum. There was a room devoted to stands of a new type of power armor, as well as laboratories with rows upon rows of empty grow boxes, making Solomon flinch as he thought of his own beginnings.

  “How much have they been keeping back?” Kol whispered behind Solomon, but if he had been hoping to be surreptitious, he failed in the empty, echoing space.

  “Everything, Mr. Kol,” Ochrie said severely. “Quite simply, the ECH is designed to create, innovate, research, and test the future. At this level of the Confederacy, scientists are brought in from across civilian, colonial, corporate, and military walks of life to help determine the best technologies to deploy for the betterment of humanity.”

  “Mars doesn’t seem to have been bettered recently,” Kol muttered.

  “And neither has Proxima.” Ochrie spared a look at the still-unconscious Mariad, lying on her gurney and being pushed by Malady ahead of him. “And neither have large swathes of Earth, or the Marine Corps. That is because until Tier 1 is absolutely certain that the technology won’t cause havoc with our delicate Confederate ecosystem, then they will not release it.”

  Grow boxes. Agricultural experiments. The Message. Solomon’s mind leaped between the dots, adding them together in a flash of insight. “How much of his comes from the Ru’at Message? The one that changed the Midwest?”

  He saw Ochrie’s eyes flicker as she was caught off-guard by his question. But she nodded and said nothing.

  “You’re backwards-engineering Ru’at technology, and you’ve been doing so for years, am I right?” Solomon said, unable to keep the growl from his voice. He heard a gasp from Ratko and Willoughby behind him.

  Solomon remembered the memory-vision that the Ru’at had given him on their colony—that of the original, non-clone Augustus Tavin taking blood from the original, non-clone Solomon Cready, aged about ten.

  That was the Solomon Cready whose genetics had been unknowingly altered by the arrival of the Ru’at drone-seed, looking functionally similar to the very one that he still had in his pocket, although the one he carried was in danger of falling apart. The original Solomon had been the progenitor of Serum-21.

  “Which is why it has always been so very important to withhold the technology, and to test and re-test it until we are sure it is safe for humanity,” Ochrie said.

  “It wasn’t,” Solomon said in a low, stern voice. How much of their current problems owed itself to this platform? He had blamed the greed of the mega-corporations before, that of AgroMore and NeuroTech and Taranis, but maybe they were only doing the cybernetic and genetic research that Tier 1 of the Confederacy had always wanted them to do. When NeuroTech was churning out cyborgs on Proxima, were they doing it at the behest of Confederate command? Was the entire colonial war just a field-test of Confederate weaponry?

  “But you never realized that the Message was a dupe,” Solomon growled. “The Ru’at were using the Message to gain control of human technology. To change the biology of Earth itself!” he said, outrage plain on his face.

  “Whosever fault it was, we have an alien mothership about to take over Earth!” It was Jezzy who broke the glares of Solomon and Ochrie.

  She’s right. Solomon nodded gravely.

  “Yes, we do.” Ochrie echoed his nod. “Here, let’s get the imprimatur to a medical bay and get the rest of you to the ansible.”

  The medical bays of the ECH were some of the best that Solomon had ever seen. In fact, they were the best, with hologram-bays that swept colored light and created internal diagrams of what was wrong with the imprimatur.

  “Concussion, a bleed on the brain,” Ochrie said as she examined the images. Her hands swept through the holo controls, and in response, the automated drone arms craned over the imprimatur’s form and started to work. Lines of sparkling light lanced into the imprimatur’s head.

  “It’s a simple procedure. The ECH’s medical computers will cauterize the bleed and evaporate any displaced blood. She’ll have a headache for days, but she should be fine,” Ochrie said. Solomon refused to leave the side of the woman who had saved their lives escaping the Ru’at colony until the computers had given a green ‘all-clear’ prognosis, and then he nodded for their urgent work to continue.

  “I’ll take you to the ansible,” Ochrie said, leading the way to the central command chamber of the hub.

  All the ECH’s main controls were in a large circular room with a raised, bri
dge-like area in the middle. Around the outside circle were many different consoles and data-screens, each with shimmering holographic graphs, readouts, and gauges as the ECH constantly monitored information from the super-black satellite network.

  “Activate ansible,” Ochrie called out, and suddenly Solomon’s attention was taken from the devices around the room as something started to happen over the central dais.

  There was a discreet hum and whirr of machinery as a dark shape started to descend from the dome roof. The in-set floor lights illuminated something unfolding in an almost organic way—a curl of jointed metal pieces that locked into place until it stopped, stationary, a little over chest height above the dais.

  It looked a little like a telescope, Solomon thought, but a curved one. He saw rods, pistons, and servos that allowed it to fold, but its body was made of gleaming bronze and silver tubing, with a latticework of crystal-like wires, ending at a small, octagonal black screen that was no bigger than a man’s face.

  Crystal tubules, Solomon thought, drawing out the Ru’at seed-drone from his pocket. The two halves had almost completely broken apart now, revealing strange gold-colored units and modules for which Solomon had no name, with everything connected by fine crystal-like hairs.

  “Er…” Solomon started to wonder, holding up the Ru’at orb. “Are we sure that this ansible hasn’t been hacked by the Ru’at—just like the cyborgs?”

  “What is that!?” Corporal Ratko was the first to exclaim, and Solomon explained that these ‘seed-drones’ appeared to be the command modules for Ru’at technology. They could produce holograms as well as force-fields, and apparently communicate using subspace.

  “Let me see… If I can figure out how the thing works, we might be able to isolate the frequency that the Ru’at are using to control everything,” Ratko said as Solomon handed the orb over. The lieutenant had to agree that he was finally pleased to be rid of it, to be honest.

  “We don’t know if the ansible has been compromised, is the short answer to your question, Lieutenant,” Ochrie said. “But now that we also have the Ru’at orb, we still might have a chance to destroy their communication network. We have to take the chance.”

  Fair point, Solomon thought, even though it filled him with dread.

  “It must use the same principles as Ru’at subspace channels.” Kol had already stepped up to the dais to examine the large, curving apparatus in the center of the room. “It generates a tiny quantum field and must either isolate or transmit a paired electron, many thousands of lightyears away.”

  “I’m afraid I am no quantum physicist, but I believe I read a security report to something of that effect,” Ochrie said as she, Solomon, and Jezzy joined him on the platform, where Ochrie stepped forward to the black mirror and started to speak.

  “Ansible? Identify the following CMC Officer: Brigadier General Asquew, of the Rapid Response Fleet,” Solomon watched Ochrie say into her reflection.

  It’s creepy, Solomon thought as he watched the black mirror of the data-screen pulse with some internal energy, like a ripple spreading across its surface.

  “Is it working?” Jezzy whispered in a haunted kind of voice, before suddenly the ansible jerked into motion. Solomon, Ochrie, Jezzy, and Kol sprang back as the entire structure swiveled just like a deep-space telescope, first turning one way on its axis and then the other, until it finally pointed some seventy degrees from where it had originally been.

  “Don’t tell me it’s just going to point and say over there,” Solomon muttered to Jezzy.

  But the black mirror of the device’s screen was still rippling in rhythmic circles, pulsing faster and faster.

  “It might take a while. It is still an experimental object,” Ochrie said as they waited.

  And while they waited, Solomon felt Jezzy move a little closer to him and whisper. “Sir… Sol. Back on board the scout, you did something…” she said, though their eyes were locked on the pulsing mirror in front of them.

  “Was it bad?” Solomon said. It probably was. I don’t think I’ve had the best of luck so far at keeping friends.

  “You let me take the command chair, and then you called me commander,” Jezzy said, and this time, Solomon looked at her to see how puzzled she was.

  She’s still my squad member, Solomon thought. Still fiery and determined, but also the most incredibly hardworking person that he had ever met.

  “Yes.” Solomon nodded. “I think you deserve it. General Asquew promoted me to First Lieutenant of the Outcasts. You have kept Gold Squad alive for the last however-long, and I think that—if any of us survive this and if there is enough of the Marine Corps left to even be a Marine Corps—you should be given squad command.”

  It wasn’t something that Solomon had been thinking about especially, but it was something that had occurred to him in those moments on board the Marine scout as they fought Hausman’s fighters. He had seen the way Jezzy had worked with Ratko, Willoughby, and Malady, and even though he never wanted to lose them as his partners, he now knew how important it was to have trust between service men and women.

  “You’ve earned their trust,” Solomon whispered. “They’ll die for you.”

  “And so have you,” Jezzy breathed. “The rest of the squad threw themselves into battle without question at your command. You led us out of Proxima, remember?”

  Solomon inclined his head. She was right at that, but right then and there, he realized why he had relinquished the boat to Jezzy. And why he didn’t think that he should command Gold Squad anymore.

  “H21,” Solomon said heavily, and he saw Ochrie flinch as she overheard his name. “I know what I am, Jezzy, and I know what I am good at. Very good at, in fact,” he said. When he was younger, before he realized that he was a clone, he had always praised himself for his quick wits and his ability to think on his feet. For a while, he had even thought that those qualities had made him a good squad commander.

  Maybe it did, he thought. But he also knew that the secrets lying in his blood were more important than just him. “The Ru’at have changed Earth. They—with the unwitting help of the mega-corps and the Confederacy—have changed human biology.”

  Solomon took a deep breath. “If we’re still alive after all this, then there’s going to be a lot of work to do. Not just rebuilding and resettling, but also understanding just what the Ru’at have done. I think that it will be better if Gold Squad has its own, dedicated leader, and then I will be able to offer my services where I can.”

  It hurt Solomon to admit this, but he had seen too much in the Ru’at colony to not say it. He had seen the caverns of Mars transformed into a living, alien landscape. He had seen whole groups of people brainwashed and enslaved.

  “Your request is granted, Colonel Cready,” Ochrie broke into their conversation.

  “Huh?” Solomon blinked as the commander-in-chief continued.

  “As you say, it will have to depend upon whether or not the Marine Corps and the Confederacy survives, and we will also have to consult with General Asquew for her approval. But I will be forwarding you for command of the Outcasts and the rank of lieutenant colonel, as I intend to expand the Outcast expeditionary forces into a full battalion,” Ochrie said.

  Solomon nodded. He felt flushed with pride, but it was also tinged with regret. I guess this means I won’t fight alongside my squad again.

  Chief Ochrie must have sensed some of Solomon’s reservations, because he saw the older woman’s wry, wrinkly smile as she said, “Oh, and I wouldn’t worry about abandoning your friends, Colonel Cready. In the Marine Corps, even field officers have tactical battle groups and are able to deploy on missions. I am sure that General Asquew will want your wits and your abilities out there in the field anyway—with your battle group made up of hand-picked Marines.”

  Which will, of course, be Gold Squad. Solomon turned to grin at Jezzy, who nodded.

  Blip! There was a small flash of light from the black mirror of the ansible as the ripples coalesce
d into a single blue dot. Shimmering into view just above the surface of the obsidian-looking screen was a simple holographic set of words.

  ‘CMC Brigadier General Asquew Located: Contact?’

  17

  Interlude: The Conquest of Earth

  In the darkness beyond the light of the sun, a small red light flared. It illuminated a rocky landscape pitted with craters and a singular antenna attached to a large dish. It was the dark side of the Moon, and one of the many near-listening posts.

  Signals flickered and passed down the antenna array as the constant stream of sonar waves pinged off a shape. A very large shape. And it was approaching Earth at a stately pace, entering the Moon’s shadow, where it blocked most of Earth’s own electro-magnetic sensors.

  Which was why the near-listening posts had been set in place, of course.

  Ship Designation: UNKNOWN

  Propulsion System: UNKNOWN

  The simple computer on the Confederate listening device couldn’t recognize what the craft was, only its dimensions—almost two full kilometers across and almost two-thirds of a kilometer thick.

  Other devices and equipment whirled into place. Miniaturized radio telescopes, deep-space cameras.

  They bombarded the shape with sonar waves, guided magnetic waves, low-frequency sound-bursts…and the shape that came back was that of a giant disk.

  It was the Ru’at mothership. And it had come to Earth to pay its respects.

  “Incoming!” Alerts sounded up and down the main Moon base of Luna, under the other commander-in-chief’s control, or Brigadier General Hausman, as he was known.

  In the main Luna command and control room, which Hausman had turned into his operational HQ, a low-grade panic was starting to spread. In front of computers and data-screens, the Marines of the Near-Earth Fleet struggled to understand what precisely it was they were looking at. They knew of the Ru’at, of course, and they knew of the takeover of Proxima, but they had never seen the actual mothership.